Challenge 2019

We met our support team at Bardney Bridge for a warm drink and some food. My nerves were still getting the best of me, but Phil was being his awesome self, providing support as usual. The next section was challenging, with the wind relentlessly battering us. I experienced leg cramps and had to stop at Southrey to sort it out. However, we did have a brief downwind section that provided a momentary respite. Phil even towed an inflatable raft we found stuck to the side of the bank, ensuring its safety at the jetty. After a quick intake of salt, we pushed forward once again.

Our next stop was Kirkstead Bridge, and this section only grew more difficult. The wind bombarded us from all directions, making it impossible to predict how it would hit us. Crosswinds and gusts sent me flying, but despite it all, I kept exclaiming to Phil how awesome this experience was. I was genuinely happy. Pains started to emerge in my hip and back, but I remained determined. Phil and I narrowly avoided collisions with low-flying swans, a moment that will forever be etched in my memory. Kirkstead Bridge provided a longer break as more people arrived to cheer us on. I was overjoyed to see my dogs, as I had missed them dearly. Phil was greeted by his family, and the sight of our loved ones gave us the much-needed boost to continue. Phil and the lads teased me as I launched off again, claiming my board was facing the wrong way. It’s amusing to them how I can only get on and off my board one way. Back into the wind we went, heading towards Tattershall Bridge. We had reached the halfway point and had been paddling for 7 hours.

This section was also brutal, with fierce winds knocking me across the river multiple times. One particularly strong sidewind gust caught me off guard, tipping me and my board so much that I thought I was going to fall in. Somehow, I managed to correct myself, but then found myself being battered again, almost plunging headfirst into the river. Fortunately, only my arm got wet, but I instantly felt a sharp pain shoot through my knee and leg. I knew I had injured something, but I continued paddling on my knees, trying to assess the damage. Although in agony, I kept my knee compressed by staying down. Eventually, I stood up again, realizing it wasn’t a severe rupture, but I understood that this could potentially end the challenge for me. We reached Tattershall Bridge after enduring more wind battering. To my surprise, I spotted a banner on the bridge held by my friend’s dad, which brought a smile to both Phil’s and my face. Even more people were waiting at Tattershall Bridge, and I had to retreat with my support team for medical care to assess my knee. At that moment, I knew this stop and the next one would be where I would decide whether to continue or call it quits. Fortunately, my knee received the all-clear, although I wasn’t entirely happy about pushing forward. However, I had to dig deep and find the strength to carry on.

The section from Tattershall to Chapel Hill was insane, with headwinds, crosswinds, and what we called “wind bombs.” At one point, I was even going backward—I don’t recall ever moving backward on the water before. In one corner, I reached my breaking point. Blown towards the bank and stuck on rocks, I was on the verge of giving up. I felt utterly defeated, convinced that I wasn’t strong enough to finish. But I had to press on, and with every ounce of determination left, I fought my way out. I rediscovered the fighter within me, and somehow, against all odds, we made it to Chapel Hill. I’ll never know how we managed it.

The next section to Langrick Bridge was my biggest fear—a long and lonely stretch. To make it feel shorter, we played music and paddled while chatting, battling the crosswinds. My leg was far from perfect, but I gave it my all. However, I reached a breaking point on this section. Phil was amazing as I took a 10-minute break, lying on my board and releasing all my pent-up emotions. It was my lowest point—a mix of pain, anger, happiness, and joy all at once. I buried my head on the board and let out a scream. I stretched out my body and then mustered the strength to get back up. Phil counted our strokes to keep me focused. I didn’t want to stop at Langrick Bridge; I didn’t want to face people—I simply couldn’t handle it anymore. However, nature’s call forced me to continue. We paddled for one more mile, with Phil once again providing the support I desperately needed. I owe him my gratitude. As we reached the 50km sign, I fixed my gaze on Phil, paddling while never taking my eyes off his face. Oh, how I wish you all could have seen the pure happiness radiating from him as we passed the sign, marking the end of our challenge. His smile was unlike anything I had ever seen before, and his eyes were lit up. I felt an overwhelming sense of pride for him—for us. He got us through this; he made it happen.